


Joyeux Noel, Kurisumasu Omedeto, Merry Christmas...

by sabaku_no_gaara_ai



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Porn, Character Death, Christmas Smut, First Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Violence, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaku_no_gaara_ai/pseuds/sabaku_no_gaara_ai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter with a snow spirit has unexpected repercussions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joyeux Noel, Kurisumasu Omedeto, Merry Christmas...

**Author's Note:**

> See end of work for notes.

Gaara is thinking of the past, as he walks through the snow. However, _through_ may be the wrong term…although his feet are bare, he leaves no prints behind him on the pristine surface. A bitter cold wind drives small flecks of ice against his exposed skin, stinging like sand, but if he feels it, he gives no sign. He wears only a delicately embroidered white silk kimono, a matching obi tied around his waist. He remembers days gone by, when his garments had been stained red…

He thinks about how much he used to enjoy his kills, of the sound of hot blood pattering like rain on the snow, steaming as it cooled, marring the purity of the stainless white…but that had been centuries ago, and though his appearance is still the same, age has finally mellowed the yuki-otoko-no-ko’s disposition. He doesn't kill like that anymore. It has been a long time since he has killed at all…perhaps too long.

It had been his siblings’ opinion (and Gaara secretly agreed) that being made one with an element temporarily unhinged him; the yuki-onna that had chosen to make him her successor did not count on the boy’s fear…fear that his new existence would be wiped out just as his old one had. His behavior had become…strange. For some time after his second ‘birth’ he had referred to the yuki-onna as his mother, and even given the snow itself that label…to some extent, he still thought of it in that way. And every winter, for decades, he had killed more than was necessary to sustain himself, in a more brutal and direct way than most snow spirits were capable of. His survival had been assured for many years afterwards. But somewhere along the way, as time had slipped past, he had begun to regret stealing other’s lives to maintain his own, and now…well, now his elders had other worries about the youngest.

For too long, he had been unwilling to prey on humans, forcing himself to abstain until his very being was in danger. If he did not take even a single life, and soon, Gaara would most likely not awaken when his season returned in a year’s time. He would, in effect, die. He knew this. But still, he could not bring himself to hunt as he once had.

Time was running out…this was the night before the winter solstice. After that, days would grow longer, warmer, and his powers would wane further…circumstances had finally forced his siblings’ hand. If he would not search for humans, then they would send one directly to him…he had certain favored haunts, and it was child’s play to lead a mortal where they wanted it to go…

A flicker of firelight in the darkness catches his eye, and Gaara looks up. Why would anyone be out here, so far up the mountain, and so late at night? He hesitates, indecisive, before making his silent way toward the campsite.

“Pakkun, what made you decide to run after that damn tanuki?” Kakashi asks, as if he expects the small dog to answer. The balaclava he wears on his face muffles his voice. The pug merely glances up at him and snorts, before moving a touch closer to the fire. Kakashi shakes his head. He loves hiking in Hokkaido, but it’s fortunate they happened upon this little cave after he finally caught up with his dog…it is also fortunate that he had fully prepared to camp out in sub-zero temperatures. And another thing…“Why in hell wasn't that thing hibernating?” he asked, rhetorically.

The opening to the cave is little more than a gap in the weathered stone, but it’s enough to let the smoke from the fire out (it stings Gaara’s eyes, as he comes closer, making him blink), while still holding much of the heat in. This is an ideal location for a campsite, and Kakashi fully intends to record the location in his GPS. _Tomorrow._

He stretches and yawns. Pakkun gives a small, sleepy, whuffling sort of sound…before jumping to his feet, suddenly alert, hackles raising. He stalks, stiff-legged, toward the mouth of the cave, before barking as ferociously as a small dog can. Kakashi is on high alert now as well, and he glares at the cave’s entrance, damning the fire for ruining his night vision, one hand reaching for the knife at his belt, while the other goes for the one in his boot. If it’s human he can handle it, most animals, too…he hopes it’s not a bear, but there hadn't been any signs of animal habitation in the cave, so…

The intruder steps into the cave. Darkly rimmed, ice-green eyes stare into his from a face that is powder-white, and so composed it looks like a Noh mask. The eyes make him think, rather unexpectedly, of twin jewels of jade, lost in parallel hollows in a snow bank. The boy’s lips are a faint bluish color, and no wonder, for all he wears is a kimono, light as a summer yukata…there is not even a juban layered beneath it. A part of Kakashi’s mind registers that there are intricate patterns of snowflakes embroidered across the thin white silk, while another registers that the only warmth in the youth’s appearance is the color of his hair…it’s as crimson as the lacquer on the Torii that dot this mountain, or the leaves of the maples in autumn. The boy looks to be no more than sixteen, if that.

“It’s…all right,” the boy begins, haltingly. His voice is surprisingly deep, coming from such a delicate frame. “ I don’t mean…either of you…any harm.” He frowns in consternation, oddly hairless brows knitting, dimpling. “I…apologize, I haven’t spoken…this tongue…in a…long time.”

Kakashi quickly gets up to lead the boy into the cave, out of the cold. The part of Kakashi’s mind that is still registering details of the boy’s odd appearance calmly asks him how the teen could be this far away from civilization, dressed as he is—he isn't even wearing shoes—and still be conscious, hell, _alive_ …but the rest insists that warming that cold body as quickly as possible is in order, and to leave the mysteries for later.

“Ah, a foreigner, then?” Kakashi asks, his voice casual, even as he strips off his gloves in order to chafe the boy’s chill hands. It is not powder that gives him his marble-white pallor, Kakashi discovers, and wherever he touches the teen’s bare skin, his fingertips burn, then immediately begin to numb, as if he’s touched something well below freezing. _That’s not possible,_ he thinks, and tries to distract his mind with aspects of his visitor’s appearance. He realizes that despite the rather exotic hair, his looks belie him as Japanese…perhaps he’s of mixed heritage? He also notes that there is a kanji apparently tattooed on the left side of the boy’s forehead…but it is difficult to read through the unkempt red locks. It seems to him almost as if the character is shifting from one meaning to another…one moment, it seems to read ‘ai’ and in the next, it appears to be ‘shi’…but the characters are so dissimilar, and it’s impossible to vary that widely; his eyes must be deceiving him. They must be.

“Not…precisely,” Gaara replies. As for himself, he drinks in the other’s appearance. The man is fit, that’s easy to tell even with most of his body obscured beneath bulky winter clothing. A snug-fitting mask hides half of his face, while a wild fall of silvery hair obscures one eye. His visible eye is dark, and looks grey, like storm clouds…but it’s the hair that draws Gaara’s attention. It shines in the firelight, the warm tones playing across the cool color. He is sure that it would be even more beautiful when silvered by moonlight, white as his beloved snow. But this man is not old, despite his colorless hair… that much is obvious even from what little Gaara sees of his face, for it is mostly unlined…perhaps this man is somewhat like himself, in that aspect. He may be nowhere near the age he seems…and he attracts Gaara strangely…could it be merely because of his looks, he wonders? In the past, they might have warned one with such an appearance away from the mountains in winter, afraid of his appeal to some… _thing_ , like Gaara. For good or ill, though, few pay much attention to the old legends any longer. He frowns again. He wants to leave. He should leave…he will do something he’ll regret…

Instead he stays.

The man is continuing to touch him; despite the fact that his body must be painfully cold to the mortal…no human has touched him, not since…he...none has even tried.

“Please,” Gaara says, “stop…trying to warm me. You will only hurt yourself.” His mastery of the language is growing, as the part of his mind that handles speech seems almost to thaw. So much time has passed since he spoke to another, even to his own siblings. So much of his former humanity has lain frozen.

Kakashi sighs and leans back a bit, sitting on his heels, still fairly close to Gaara. He rubs the back of his head, and knows he’ll regret asking the next question. “Okay,” he says. “Then who are you? Or should that be, _what_ are you?”

“What,” Gaara answers, smiling bitterly. “My name…is Gaara, and I am a…a yuki-otoko-no-ko…I…stand by my word, however. I mean neither you nor your pet any harm…” his expression falters. “I just wished…for some company. But I will go, if that is what you desire.”

_Snow boy?_ Kakashi thinks. _Is that actually what the kid said? And he expects me to believe it? But…_

_But_ , the kid was practically naked, in the middle of the wilderness, on a night when it should be too frigid for him to survive more than a few minutes.

_But_ , his skin was so freezing cold, it burned to the touch.

_But_ , aside from the flames of his hair, every aspect of his looks, his personality, was in accord with the legends of yuki-onna. Well, except for one. His gender. In all the legends Kakashi had ever read, yuki-onna were female, and despite the kid’s beauty, (which, he privately admits, is breathtaking) he is most assuredly male. Kakashi sighs, and shakes his head, before falling back into a sitting position. Hell with it.

“Hatake Kakashi,” he says, and ducks his head, offering a small, very casual bow. “Human, and I teach a self defense class back in Tokyo, but I like to get out into the wilds every now and again, go hiking, go camping. Am I, uh…intruding on your territory?”

“No,” he said aloud, while _Yes_ , another part of his mind insisted. “You aren't…afraid of me?”

Kakashi actually gives the matter some serious thought before answering. “Honestly, no. Why? Should I be?”

“Most are,” Gaara replies. The kanji on his forehead shifts again, morphing into different words. _Oni. Youkai. Bakemono…_

“You aren't a monster, Gaara,” Kakashi says, correctly deducing that the mark betrays the youth’s thoughts. Why, then, had it fluctuated between  _love_  and _death_ earlier? Did loving him mean death? Were the two things equivalent, in his mind? “You aren’t an ogre, or a demon, either.”

Gaara gave a hollow, mirthless laugh. “Most would consider me so. When I was mortal, even my parents considered me so.” A swirl of frost appears beside his face, hardening into a thin sheet of ice, and he traces the characters that make up his name into its surface. If Kakashi had any doubts that the boy wasn't what he claimed to be, that little display of power destroyed them utterly. He read: Self. Love. The last character could mean either carnage, or demon. “My mother died giving birth to me. My—” wait, which ‘mother’ does he speak of? He clutches his head, trying to remember, his eyes growing wild. “My, my father…ordered my siblings to accompany me to the top of this mountain, to the place where the _kami_ resided. I was to be the sole sacrifice, but we…we got lost, in a snowstorm.” Cold air swirls from him, around him, draining the heat from the cave, nearly blowing the fire out. Pakkun had settled down, lying at Kakashi’s feet, but now he jumps up, yelping and shivering. The sound seems to rouse Gaara somewhat, and he reins in his power.

“I…I’m sorry,” he says, looking around him with dismay. There is snow inside the cave, and that’s his doing. Gaara concentrates further, and draws the cold back into himself. The flames jump higher than they had been even before his arrival, and the pockets of snow begin to melt. He begins to feel somewhat uncomfortable, as the heat rises. It makes him feel ill, and what might be a droplet of sweat rolls down his temple.

It isn't sweat.

Kakashi somehow realized that if he wanted to run, or if he ordered the boy to leave, Gaara would allow it, would do as he asked.

Like Gaara, he stays.

Carefully, he begins to urge more of the fascinating creature’s story from him. Three children, lost in a snowstorm, on the verge on death, were found by a yuki-onna. She had brought them to the mountain’s then-reigning dai-tengu. Because she had not kept their lives for her own, she had been allowed to choose one to do with as she wished. Drawn to his nature, she had chosen the youngest, and pale, cold, distant Gaara had been transformed into a rather amplified version of himself. Kakashi notes an important detail, in the retelling. When he was gifted with her power, the yuki-otoko-no-ko became nearly immortal, but the former yuki-onna had quickly faded, then died. It is the same for the dai-tengu, who chose the eldest, Gaara’s sister Temari, as his ‘heir’, of sorts. The rather forceful girl’s blustery nature drew him as the youngest had the yuki-onna. Apparently, she had been the reigning dai-tengu ever since. Kakashi again notes that not all details of legend can be trusted; tengu, in stories, were almost invariably male. The middle child, a boy by the name of Kankurou, became an amalgam of minor deities. Mostly there are elements of the nekomata in his playful, somewhat manipulative nature, but there is also something of betobeto-san, as well as elements of the noppero-bo. Kakashi begins to suspect it is Gaara’s siblings that led him here, and that he himself was drawn as skillfully as a puppet on a string.

He learns that, by level of magnitude, Gaara likely has the most sheer elemental power, but it is the tengu who rule the mountains. When asked why, Gaara simply replies, “That’s the way it’s always been.” He also finds out the reason for the dark rings around the boy’s eyes. Because he ‘sleeps’ until winter comes, once it arrives, he does not rest until it’s over. Meaning that from the first snowfall to the last, he is awake and restless.

Kakashi then recounts his own, much milder adventures, about how Pakkun had chased a (miraculously awake) raccoon-dog into the forest, how Kakashi had set off after him, hearing echoes of barking and growling that led him further and further away from his lodgings, facing a bitterly cold wind that planted him face-first into snowdrifts every time he tried to turn back (hoping to at least radio for assistance), and Gaara smirks. That story has the marks of Kankurou and Temari written all over it. Misleading echoes, and a mysteriously ‘pushy’ wind? Meddlesome is what his siblings are, but privately Gaara appreciates the gesture. He knows that what they did was out of concern for him, and hopes they will not be too disappointed…

Hours have passed as the two recounted their respective tales. Gaara realizes, to his own utter astonishment, that he doesn't want the man to leave. This Hatake Kakashi fascinates him…he’d thought it had been simply the physical aspect at first, but the man’s nature draws him too…was this what it felt like for the yuki-onna that ushered him into his current existence? Could she sense something more than what was visible on the surface? Gaara smothers a smile before it even begins. The ‘surface’ of this man is barely even visible…the masks the human hides behind are more obvious than his own apparently emotionless exterior. He wishes…that there were a way to make this man his own. After just this single chance meeting, he realizes he’s found something, someone, that he doesn't want to give up. Gods, if only it were possible…

Gaara’s expression betrays none of his inner turmoil, though Kakashi thinks he detects some sort of longing in the pale green depths of the youth’s eyes. He sighs, brushing his hair back out of his face, revealing a long scar that bisects his discolored left eye. Part of the reason he’s up here, now, had been to avoid emotional attachments. Apparently that’s out of the question, because one has found him where he’d least expected it. Seemingly out of nowhere, he mentions, “It’s Christmas Eve, you know.”

Gaara blinks.

“It’s a holiday,” Kakashi elaborates, grinning at the young man’s confusion. “It’s still new to you, isn't it?” Gaara nods. He can remember the days when people still celebrated the return of the sun goddess Amaterasu from the cave, and requiems for the dead were performed…he calculates. Hm, the date for that particular festival is a few days past. Kakashi continues, “Actually, in most cultures, Christmas is the major holiday, while Christmas Eve is pretty much neglected. In our culture, however, Christmas Eve is a time for miracles, and a time when lovers are destined to meet.”

Gaara pulls into himself, refusing to let himself hope, and hugs his knees to his chest while inadvertently flashing a long stretch of attractive, porcelain-pale leg. The physical retreat also resulted in his powers retracting even further, and the heat in the cave rises by a few more degrees. Kakashi watches with rapt attention as another droplet of not-sweat tracks down the underside of Gaara’s thigh, traveling down, down…and Kakashi wonders if the boy is truly naked but for that kimono. Kakashi curses, mentally. He’s never believed the drivel about love, or destiny, or miracles, but…

He’s never believed in _yama-no-kami_ like tengu or snow spirits, either. Perhaps it’s time he began believing.

He reaches out to touch the boy’s face, bracing himself for the burning cold, for the sluggish feeling in his fingers, like a bad frostbite. But though Gaara’s skin is icy, it doesn't hurt this time. Instead, Gaara is the one in pain. He’s drawn in his power until it has left him vulnerable, and Gaara wants to cry out at the touch. The spreading warmth on his cheek burns him, but he welcomes it, although not without a slight wince. He knows, very well, that it is possible for him to _quite literally_ melt under this man’s caresses. Stubbornly he refuses to care. If he dies, it will at least be a pleasurable end.

“Gaara,” Kakashi asks, gently, though it pains him to stop. He saw the wince that Gaara tried to hide. He can’t figure out why he’s so drawn to the little snow-spirit, but he doesn't want to hurt him, or gods forbid, kill him. He can’t recall any legends about yuki-onna that didn't end badly… “Gaara, look at me. Is this…all right? Will you be okay?”

Gaara is stunned. He has been offered touch, and affection, and understanding, and even…concern for his well being? Any one of those alone would be a gift beyond compare…he is the monster, the killer, the terror that waits for unwary travelers in a blizzard, or (if they are extremely fortunate, and some of his most recent kills have been) a gentle death that grants them a last vision of beauty in a swirl of snowflakes before ushering them into eternity, and _why, why?_ Why does this man want to be with him? He cannot help but voice that doubt.

“Why?”

Somehow Kakashi understands. It’s not just the physical aspect for him either, even though the boy is beautiful beyond compare. And pity isn't the emotion driving him, despite the sensation of loneliness washing off of Gaara in drowning waves. “I don’t know, Gaara, I’m sorry. I…just…I want to be with you. Will you let me?”

“Yes,” Gaara answers. There is not a moment’s doubt or hesitation. He doesn't understand exactly what Kakashi is asking for, but his desire has grown until it is of more concern to him than life itself. He can’t explain it. He’s never felt this…sensation, this…emotion…? He’s never been with, nor in fact even wanted to be with anyone until…

“ _Kakashi_ ,” he breathes, right before Kakashi pulls down the balaclava that covers his mouth, and his lips claim Gaara’s. He wants, so badly, to kiss those blue lips pink. To see the white cheeks flush with color…Kakashi’s mouth is hot; hot enough to make Gaara melt, and tastes spicy. Gaara privately wonders if it’s what a flame tastes like, or the summer sun. Somehow, he manages to control his most primal urge, when their lips meet. He speculates on whether Kakashi knows that by being together, mortal and immortal, each risks death. To Kakashi, Gaara’s mouth tastes cool, clean, like frost in the air, or water from a pure mountain spring. His tongue, Kakashi notes with some surprise, is warm. Gaara is warm inside, then, not cold…he is determined to put this new realization to further tests.

Kakashi gently pushes the boy to his back on the floor of the cave, before ripping off his own heavy down coat and throwing it aside. A part of his mind distantly registers this as a dangerous move on his part, but he dismisses it, bending to untie the knot on the delicate obi. He does so, and pulls the kimono open, finding just what he’d suspected. The garment is Gaara’s sole article of clothing; he wears nothing underneath, not even a fundoshi. A small patch of pubic hair, scarlet as the hair on Gaara’s head, is the only spot of color on that smooth, white expanse. His body is like that of a finely crafted ningyo, a doll, made of bisque porcelain. It almost seems as if he’ll shatter if handled too roughly.

Kakashi kisses and nips and sucks and licks his way down Gaara’s torso. He tastes what he had assumed was sweat…the liquid is sweet, however, and he finally recognizes it for what it is: water. Or more accurately, melted snow. The sudden realization hits him, that Gaara could very well melt beneath his touch, but he trusts him this much? Kakashi’s heart scissors painfully in his chest…No one…not since Obito…has been willing to trust him…not with their life.

He plans to make sure that Gaara’s faith isn't misplaced. His movements slow, become more careful. He grasps Gaara’s penis, gently fondling the still-limp organ, and Gaara gasps. _That_ was certainly a sensation he’d never felt before! His first death had come before he’d had a chance to taste mortal pleasures, and since then…desires like that were lost to him, locked away behind icy barricades. Such hot-blooded acts have been alien to one of his frigid predilection, for all this time. The burning is slowly fading, becoming pleasure, as Kakashi strokes him towards hardness.

“Oh, gods, that’s…I…” he gasps.

Kakashi smiles. “It gets even better.”

“B-better?” Gaara murmurs. “How?”

“Like this,” Kakashi replies, taking the boy’s partially erect member into his mouth. Gaara gasps again, but he can’t speak. That heat that encases the most sensitive part of him…it should be painful, but it’s not. Instinctively, his hips thrust upwards, trying to bury himself deeper in that wonderful warmth…Kakashi’s broad hands span the slim hips, not stopping the motion entirely, but holding Gaara still enough so that the thrusts don’t choke him. He hums around the flesh that had felt (and incidentally, tasted) like an icicle in his mouth before it warmed, and Gaara’s pleasure increases even further.

“Ah! Oh please, please, please, stop, it feels…oh, it feels…” Gaara’s words are rushed, and his fingers tangle into the silvery locks on the head buried between his legs, his hands helplessly contracting, releasing. Kakashi pulls back, sliding Gaara's flesh from his mouth, but not without a parting lick at the very tip, one broad swipe of his tongue across the sensitive head before asking, “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

Gaara can do no more than babble incoherencies, which Kakashi happily translates as “Please continue with what you were doing, that feels amazing.”  Given his reaction, he’s probably the kid’s first. Might as well make it as good as he possibly can…he returns his mouth to its previous occupation, reaching down with one hand toward a pocket of his snow pants. He doesn't have any proper lubrication for this particular eventuality with him, but he thinks he has something that will do the job…a small jar of herbal balm. It’s always felt particularly soothing on his hands after long winter hikes, even when his skin is chapped so badly that it’s cracked and bleeding. He figures it'll be safe enough for more sensitive areas…

But there is something he wants to try first. He grasps Gaara’s smooth thighs, pulling them up over his shoulders, as he releases the boy’s cock from his mouth. He lets his tongue trail along the underside, as he moves into position. Teasing his balls, laving the perineum, and then moving even farther back, Kakashi can’t resist one gentle nip of the boy’s buttocks that elicit a shocked squeak before pressing his face into the crevice as far as it will go, and lavishly coating his hole in saliva. A glance tells him that it’s just as white as the rest of the boy's body, no rush of blood coloring that coolness. Even his cock, when Kakashi relinquished it, had not been flushed. Kakashi smirks, and decided that means he will simply have to work harder. Loving the little whimpers and moans that escape Gaara as he laps at the tight little pucker, he tries for more, pressing a light kiss to the opening before plunging his tongue inside. Again, there is little taste, no hint of salt, or musk, or bitterness…tasting Gaara is like tasting sweet spring water. Kakashi is fascinated. Gaara squeals as he is breached, and comes, convulsing around Kakashi, gripping at the muscle inside of him like a vice. Kakashi withdraws a bit, rubbing Gaara’s thighs soothingly as his spasms lessen. Though that was quite obviously an orgasm, there’s no sign of ejaculate. Kakashi puzzles over this enigma. Gaara pants heavily, recovering, and his bangs are plastered to his forehead as the rest of his shaggy locks drip with moisture. After a few more moments, he looks up, locking eyes with Kakashi. 

“More,” he orders.

Kakashi’s momentary confusion evaporates and he is happy to oblige. He strips down as much as he can without exposing too much skin to the open air. Then he reaches for the jar, and twists open the lid, rubbing some of the substance between his fingers to warm it before he figures out how ludicrous that is in this situation. He repositions Gaara so he can prepare him. He presses a slippery finger to his hole before inserting it to the first knuckle. Gaara hisses, but doesn’t appear to be in any pain. He slides the digit further in, reveling in the boy’s softness, his tightness, his inner warmth, and worries briefly that he might be physically drooling with anticipation. He moves it around, hunting, but not finding the spot he’s looking for. He pulls it out, and then presents two fingers at the pucker before slipping them inside. Gaara gasps, clenches, and there’s resistance, so he stops.

“You have to relax,” Kakashi mutters in what he hopes is a soothing tone. Lust has tinged his own voice with a slightly rougher edge than normal. “Relax, I promise this will feel good soon…better than anything so far.”

“Better…” Gaara whispers, trying to force his body not to rebel against him. He wants this, he does, but the fingers are not soft, and being penetrated by them hurts, hurts worse than when Kakashi first stroked his cheek, but there’s still a hint of pleasure buried beneath the pain. He feels something trickle from his right eye before a small, rough tongue laps it up. He gasps again, surprised, and then looks over to see a scrunched, wrinkly, furry little black face inches from his own. Pakkun pants, and tilts his head to look at Gaara, while the snow-spirit stares right back at him, his mouth open in shock.

“I’d close my mouth if I were you,” Kakashi suggests. “He’s been known to kiss on the lips.” He grins. Wonderful things, pets, he thinks. Great at breaking the ice…he shakes his head at his own poor pun.

Gaara closes his mouth, only to open it again as one of Kakashi’s fingers (moving, scissoring, and there are three now, when did that happen?) brush over a spot inside of him that feels...

“Ah, G-gods, Kakashi, right there, what is that, it’s,” Kakashi’s finger hooks, presses harder against it, and Gaara nearly screams his pleasure.

“That, my little snow boy, is known as the prostate,” Kakashi grins as he pulls his fingers free. Gaara moans at the loss. He hopes he’s prepared the boy enough, but he can’t take too much more…his own dick is painfully hard and throbbing. He strokes it a few times, coating it in the slippery balm, before pressing the slick, smooth head between the boy’s ass cheeks, and then inside…but just the tip. Gaara is trembling, and his eyes are closed, the lids smoky in that pale face, but again, he doesn't seem to be in any pain…Kakashi wonders just how much that mask-like visage hides. With his forehead hidden, Gaara’s vocalizations are his only clue to how the snow spirit feels. He presses further inside, and Gaara groans…in pleasure, it seems.

Inch by tortuous inch, Kakashi moves further into that surprising heat that grips him like a velvet glove. When he is fully sheathed, he pauses, so Gaara can adjust. The boy is panting shallowly, and his fingers are splayed, as if to anchor himself to the rough ground, and the silk kimono beneath him is soaking wet. He spares it a worried glance. Gaara, easily interpreting his look, answers the unspoken question.

“Ice…armor,” he explains, in between pants. “I’m not in any danger…yet. Now, move.”

Kakashi heaves a sigh of relief, and eagerly complies. Both groan, when he moves. For Kakashi, the feeling is better than anything, any partner he’s ever been with, a perfect fit like they are two pieces of the same puzzle. It’s so intense; he’s having a hard time finding a steady rhythm. Gaara, with every irregular stroke of Kakashi’s organ inside of him, knows…this is what it is, what he’s been missing, what the abyss in his heart that has been screaming to be filled has waited for, for what seems like eternity. This is what it was always meant to be. He…

Love?

Is that it?

_Is that even possible_ , he asks himself?

_I…love…Hatake Kakashi_?

Although there is in his powers something of the incubus, he’s never known anything like this before. No feelings. No emotions save the darker ones. Hate, anger, despair, loneliness. He’s never allowed anyone inside the walls he built around himself, never been this vulnerable, for anyone. Why is this so different? Why has it gone beyond…?

“A-Aaahhngh…Kakashi…” he moans, “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop, please…”

Kakashi, already nearing his limit, bites his lip and struggles not to find his release, just from those words. This lover, so unearthly, so beautiful, so…so utterly perfect…if he could die now, he’d die happy. But, dammit…

“Gaara,” he whimpers. “Gaara, I’m already so close, I can’t…”

“Then don't,” Gaara replies, twining his arms around Kakashi’s neck.

That does it, and Kakashi topples headfirst over the edge into orgasm. The feel of the hot organ, and even hotter fluid pulsing inside him, into his depths, makes Gaara feel as if he’s going to melt. Literally. He doesn't, but it’s a very near thing. It is salty, Gaara realizes, for it stings inside of him. This is what it would mean, to take this man as a lover. Pleasure always mixed with pain. He throws his head back, shaking out his damp mane.

_I think I enjoy this kind of pain_ , he thinks.

Kakashi has nearly collapsed on top of him, holding himself up, barely, with limbs that shake from exhaustion. Gaara pulls him closer, and Kakashi gratefully sinks down, draping his long, lean frame across Gaara’s smaller one. He leans his head against that pale, thin chest. Feeling it move up and down, as Gaara breathes. He hears a single heartbeat. He waits.

And waits. And frowns.

After what seems a terribly long while, he hears another. He waits again.

Another.

Gaara does smile this time. He knows what Kakashi is thinking. He doesn't know why, but it’s almost as if he can read the man’s mind, just by looking at him. Still holding Kakashi’s head against his chest, he speaks.

“It’s slow, I know, but it beats because of you. It hasn't…I haven’t…not since I d-” he stops. His face is no longer still; his expression would break a stone heart as it writhes in pain. If Kakashi could see it now, he would in no way liken it to a mask. Gaara turns his face away. “I…”

Kakashi, sensing the boy’s desire for privacy, raises his head just a bit, but shakes his hair down so that a curtain of it falls between his face and Gaara’s, shielding him from view. He kisses the cool chest, right over that slow heartbeat, and then turns to gently suckle at a smooth, pale nipple. Gaara gasps. Releasing the delicate nub, Kakashi returns to pressing kisses above the fragile heart, thinking that there is nothing he wouldn't do to keep it from breaking.

“You don’t have to say it,” Kakashi says. “I know. I know, because I feel the same.”

Gaara pulls Kakashi up into a soul-stealing kiss. And for just one terrible moment, Gaara forgets. He forgets that given his powers, that’s exactly what it can be, what it is. Suddenly he remembers and quickly pushes the man away, but too late, for already Kakashi’s skin has grown colder, and there is frost on the lashes of his closed eyes…he doesn't shiver. Oh gods, he is already too cold to shiver, and the only word that passes his numb lips is “C-c-cold.”

“No no no no no,” Gaara repeats, his eyes wide. He redresses Kakashi as quickly as possible, a plan already forming despite his panic. “What have I done, what have I done…”

His small frame belies his strength, and he cradles Kakashi’s stiff form against him, and runs. His nude form flies over the snow like wind, carrying his burden as if it were nothing, as his feet direct him to a hot springs that he knows is nearby…there. Steam completely obscures it. Gaara wades into the mist and lays Kakashi down, stripping him as swiftly as he’d dressed him, before lowering him into the pool. He can’t touch the water. It will kill him, melt him, but Gaara lays on the shore with one arm thrown around Kakashi’s neck, keeping the man’s head above water, and crying as if his poor recently-thawed heart would break. The tears freeze the moment they hit the open air, for the chill has returned, and Gaara’s only warmth is inside his body…the surface is once more growing cold, so cold…

What might be minutes or hours pass, but the first hints of dawn have begun to light the sky, when Kakashi sighs, and wakes. Once he is able to support himself Gaara releases him, afraid that his chill will pervade Kakashi again, hurting him, potentially killing him…his body is wracked with silent sobs, and he shies away when Kakashi reaches out a hand to comfort the boy.

“Gaara, I’m alright, it’s alright,” he says. “It was an accident.”

“I almost killed you.”

“But you didn’t.” Kakashi sighs again. “Come here, please.”

There are gray smudges on his bare body from lying on the volcanic rock, and Kakashi smothers a smile at the mental picture of a dirty little snowman. He’s not angry, and he’s not afraid either, though he does admit he feels a whole new sense of respect for Gaara’s power. The sun has risen fully before he can convince Gaara of all this, though. Once he is warm enough, he dresses quickly, then returns to the cave to gather his things. Pakkun is waiting at the cave mouth, barking happily at the return of his master. Gaara had left him so far behind that the little dog had gone back to wait in the cave, somehow reasoning in his canine brain that Kakashi would come back for him. Or at least for his things…

Temari and Kankurou have watched the entire proceedings from nearby. While neither of the elder siblings is perfectly happy with the outcome, they’d be lying if they said they weren't a little pleased. Their little brother has been given his humanity back, and who could be upset about that?

_I’ll be back_ , Kakashi insists before he leaves. _I’ll always come back. It’s our anniversary, so every year, on Christmas Eve, I’ll be back._

Before the next winter, Kakashi moved to Hokkaido, and set up a studio in a nearby town. Gaara _did_ kill, that winter…once. And he _did_ wake again, not when the first snow fell, as he used to, but much later, when it was much colder. He ‘feeds’ only enough to survive, and hopes that aspect of him is hidden from his lover. He suspects that it’s not. His powers over the elements have for this reason dwindled almost to nothing, but it is hope that has given him the strength, the desire, to return year after year…

Years pass, and Pakkun dies. Both men mourn the loss of the little animal who was crucial in bringing the two of them together. Though Gaara urges him to (for he fears that Kakashi is spending the rest of the seasons alone), Kakashi does not find a replacement for his pet.

More years pass. A lifetime. _Kakashi’s_ lifetime. And eventually, Kakashi’s face matches his prematurely white hair. It is a network of wrinkles, but still, to Gaara’s eyes, beautiful. He knows that his mortal lover is approaching the end of his span on earth, and knows of but one way to extend it. He asks. Kakashi refuses. So, he makes his decision. His siblings argue, they don’t approve, but neither will they stop him. He leads the old man to the hot springs where he managed to revive Kakashi that first time. This time, Gaara enters the water with him, giving no outward sign of how painful it is, how even the relatively mild heat scalds him, will soon melt him. His face that Kakashi had once wished to see flushed with color is growing brilliantly red, almost as red as his hair: fever-bright. He huddles next to the dying form, fear making him shudder, fear for both of them, as he waits to see who will be first. Kakashi wraps a withered arm around him, and Gaara prays…he prays, there must be some deity that would hear his petition…that they be taken together.

His own senses failing, the last thing he hears as he lays his head against his beloved’s grizzled chest is the stuttering of heartbeats as they finally come to a stop. He is glad that Kakashi can no longer see him, for he is melting, and is almost completely transparent now.

“I love you,” he finally says. It is something that Kakashi knew, has always known, but Gaara has invariably found difficult to say. “I love you…”

He kisses the lips of his dead lover, and it is a soul-stealing kiss. A moment later, he closes blind eyes and allows his body to succumb, flowing like water down the still form. His last conscious thought before he follows Kakashi, is...

_...Perhaps we can be reborn_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm choosing to post this work to Archive of Our Own in part because I DID say I'd start moving them eventually, and in part to help a friend who was having some difficulty editing. Since I hadn't posted here before, I was unsure how hard it was.   
> Also because it is thematically appropriate as of the time I'm posting it. heh.  
> I will probably be editing the FUCK out of it, because I haven't been able to look at my own work in years, and have been sometimes known to edit just for funsies. Still, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Edit: You know, the more I look at this, the more I think of ROTG or Frozen. Considering I originally posted it in 2008, though, any similarities mean they borrowed from me. Speaking of, here's the link for that: http://www.y-gallery.net/view/501096/
> 
> The original notes can be found there as well.


End file.
